


in which Jon has absolutely no idea what he is doing

by fatal_drum



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, Fluff, Humor, Jon is hopeless but we love him, M/M, Sexual Mishaps, past Jonathan Sims/Georgie Barker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 15:47:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19890337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatal_drum/pseuds/fatal_drum
Summary: Jon's first time topping with Martin goes about as smoothly as you'd expect.





	in which Jon has absolutely no idea what he is doing

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by conversations with [@cuttooth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuttooth/pseuds/cuttooth), who is a shameless enabler and wonderful beta. <3

It wasn’t that Jon hated sex. It had just never been a priority. 

On his own, he tended to forget about his body entirely, dealing with the odd erection as dispassionately as he would any other inconvenience. Masturbation felt good the same way scratching an itch felt good, or drinking when he was thirsty.

Having a partner changed things. In some relationships, sex had been been something of a chore to check off his list, part of being a good partner. With others, it had been...nice. Comforting, and intimate. 

When he was with someone, he tended to adapt to their habits. Georgie had loved to climb astride him on quiet Sunday mornings, moaning into his mouth as she rode him at a leisurely pace. Jon had been able to lie back and watch the expressions unfold across her face, hands free to roam over her body. Once she came, she’d slide down to take him into her mouth or hands. Afterwards they’d lie together in a sleepy haze until one of them got up to make coffee. 

Losing Georgie had been a blow he thought he’d never recover from. He’d never expected to have that kind of closeness and connection until he met her. They’d really cared for each other, though he didn’t blame her for leaving. He avoided relationships for a long time afterward. 

Then there was Martin. Martin, who looked at Jon like his existence was a small miracle. Martin, with his broad shoulders and his soft eyes, who’d take every scrap of Jon’s attention and pay it back one hundred fold without asking for anything in return. Martin was Jon’s humanity, his anchor, his reminder of everything that was good and worthy. 

Their relationship began gradually. It had taken Jon an embarrassing length of time to understand Martin’s feelings, much less his own, and longer still to decide what to do about it. They’d come together with a giddy enjoyment Jon hadn’t felt in years. He still scarcely believed it had happened. 

Their first time together had been incredible. Martin had treated Jon with an impossible reverence, learning his body with each soft and careful touch. There had been awkwardness and false starts, but Jon wouldn’t have changed a thing. Not when Martin had opened himself up and let Jon coax the secrets from his skin. 

So far, they’d limited themselves to the pleasures of hands and mouths. Martin liked it best when Jon fingered him open slowly and deliberately, mouths pressed together as Martin clutched him tight. He got so sweet and desperate that Jon couldn’t help but fall for him all over again. 

So it wasn’t a surprise when Martin suggested intercourse, his face flushing pink as he looked at Jon through his lashes. Jon agreed without hesitation. 

Martin had planned it out perfectly. They had a quiet night in, relaxing with trash telly, cheap takeaway, and a bottle of wine. Well, half a bottle—Jon was a lightweight, and Martin preferred his drinks with umbrellas in them. Jon was feeling warm and content when Martin set his glass aside and fixed Jon with a shy look. 

“Do you still want to...try it, tonight?” Martin asked. His face was already a bit flushed from the wine, and the blush deepened as he looked at Jon. 

“I’d love to,” Jon said, leaning forward to kiss him. 

Martin’s mouth was sweet with wine, and Jon chased the taste with his tongue. Martin groaned and pulled him closer, as Jon worked his hands under Martin’s shirt to feel his bare skin. Martin was always so warm. Jon wanted to curl up against him like a cat, soaking it all in. And he could do it any time he wanted to, he realized. Martin would never turn him away. 

They parted just long enough to move to the bedroom, Martin lying on his back while Jon crawled into his lap. He could feel Martin hardening in his boxers, and it pleased him enough that he ground down against him, drawing a low moan from Martin’s lips. 

“Jon,” Martin said softly, reaching up to cup Jon’s cheek. 

Jon nuzzled his hand, dropping a kiss against his palm. “I’ve got you,” he promised. 

They shed their clothes, and Jon paused to enjoy the heat of Martin’s bare skin pressed against his, the softness of his thighs and belly, the silky hardness of his cock.  _ All mine, _ Jon thought, kissing a trail down Martin’s chest to his stiff pink nipples. Martin groaned and clutched at Jon’s hips as he licked the sensitive flesh. 

Jon was tempted to linger even longer, to see how much Martin could endure before begging for more, but he had a promise to keep. Reaching into the drawer, he pulled out the lubricant he’d begun to keep there recently. 

He uncapped the lid and squeezed, but nothing came out. Frowning, he squeezed harder, then yelped as the lid came off entirely, spilling sticky fluid everywhere. 

_ “Shit,”  _ he muttered, looking around for a towel.

“Worry about it later,” Martin demanded, spreading his legs a bit wider, as if to remind Jon of where his priorities should lie. 

“Right,” Jon said, rubbing his slippery fingers together. 

There was enough lube on his hand that his fingers slid easily between Martin’s cheeks, coating his hole with plenty to spare. Martin sighed and raised his hips, and Jon sank in his first finger. Martin’s body clutched him greedily, and Jon pushed in deeper. His free hand coated Martin’s cock with light, teasing strokes. 

“God, Jon,” Martin moaned, arching his back. 

Jon pushed a second finger into Martin, who took it gratefully, moaning and pushing back against Jon’s hand. Jon barely got the third in before Martin seized his wrist. 

“Enough,” he said breathlessly. “I can’t wait anymore,  _ please—” _

“Right,” said Jon. “Did you buy the condoms?”

“Yes,” Martin said, and then groaned. “But they’re in the kitchen.”

Jon withdrew his fingers carefully, leaning down to kiss Martin on the forehead. 

“Just a moment,” he said, rising from the bed. He padded through the sitting room and into the kitchen, searching until he found a plastic bag on the counter. Inside were two Mars bars, a mobile charger, and three boxes of condoms. 

“Martin,” he called. “Why are there so many?” 

“I thought you might like one better,” Martin called back. 

Jon inspected the boxes. Each one was a different brand, with its own garish colors, promising things like  _ sensual satisfaction  _ and  _ ultimate pleasure.  _

“Ultra ribbed ecstasy…?” he muttered. “Good lord.” 

Jon collected the boxes and retreated to the bedroom. 

“I don’t know which one to pick,” he complained, flipping one of the boxes over and scrutinizing the type. Perhaps one had special features? 

Martin cleared his throat, and Jon looked down to see Martin was still naked and erect, and positively covered in lubricant. He did not seem keen to wait. 

“Sorry,” Jon said, embarrassed. “I just...I really want this to be perfect.”

Martin laid a hand on Jon’s cheek. “It’s already perfect, because it’s you.”

Jon felt his face go hot, and he nuzzled into Martin’s hand to hide it. 

“You’re gorgeous when you’re embarrassed like that,” Martin said. 

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” Jon muttered. 

Martin rose to kiss Jon again, pushing him onto his back. Jon sighed appreciatively. He felt safe, pinned under Martin’s solid and reassuring weight. Martin’s mouth was gentle against his, even as his cock pressed urgently against Jon’s hip. Martin leaned down to kiss Jon’s neck, then his collar bone, and Jon moaned. 

“Do you mind if I suck you off a bit?” Martin asked shyly. “I like having you in my mouth.”

“Not at all,” Jon said, and Martin slid the rest of the way down his body, leaving a trail of kisses as he went. Martin’s hands framed his hips, holding him in place as Martin nuzzled his half-hard cock. Jon bit off a sound he refused to call a whimper. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Martin murmured, taking the head of Jon’s cock into his mouth and drawing it in slowly. Jon stroked his hair, suppressing the urge to pull him closer. Martin’s mouth was wet and welcoming, his tongue soft and perfect against Jon’s vulnerable places, and it was almost more than Jon could take, to be handled so sweetly. 

“This won’t last long if you keep that up,” Jon admitted, and Martin pulled off with a shy smile. 

Martin picked a condom from one of the boxes without looking, then rolled it on Jon’s cock. 

“How would you like me?” Martin asked. 

“I want to see you. Please.” 

They settled with Martin on his back, legs open with his knees up, with Jon kneeling in the space between his thighs. Jon savored the sight spread before him as he slicked his cock. 

“Are you ready?” Jon asked. 

“More than ready,” Martin said, smiling up at him. 

Jon shifted forward, looking down into Martin’s eyes as he prepared to enter him for the first time. He rocked his hips, feeling his cock slide between Martin’s cheeks, grazing his hole, before slipping to the side. Jon’s face went hot. 

“I, er—sorry,” he said, repositioning himself. 

“You’re fine,” Martin said, smiling up at him. 

Jon took himself in hand and tried again, aiming more deliberately. This time he was on the mark, and Martin sighed in appreciation as Jon slowly, carefully sank inside. Martin’s body gripped him tightly, and Jon could feel each small movement of his body. Jon wanted to stay that way forever, wrapped in Martin’s arms and buried inside him. 

They kissed, and Jon moaned into Martin’s mouth, tangling his hands in Martin’s hair. He could lose himself in Martin’s body, in the tightness that gripped him, and the heat of Martin’s mouth. Martin’s hands ran up Jon’s spine, and he shivered. 

“Jon,  _ please…” _

Jon realized then that he had forgotten to move. Jon had to untwine his hands from Martin’s hair to prop himself up again. He pulled back, savoring the eager clutch of Martin’s body around him, then pushed back in, deeper. Martin moaned, lifting his hips into Jon’s thrusts. Emboldened, Jon prepared for another thrust, and—slipped out.

“Shit, sorry—” he muttered, scrambling to re-align himself. 

“You’re fine, Jon,” Martin said, pulling him in for another kiss. 

“Right. I can do this,” Jon said, lining himself up again and sinking back in. 

This time he was more careful, more measured with his thrusts, and he watched Martin’s head tilt back in pleasure, chest heaving as he rolled his hips against Jon’s. Martin’s skin flushed pink from exertion, bringing out the color of his freckles, and old scars. 

Jon stroked his skin, reveling in the softness, the heat under his palms. Each mark had its own story. A patch of freckles on his shoulder had come from a holiday at the sea-side, one of the last trips he’d taken with his mother. In his excitement, he’d forgotten to bring sun cream, and he had burned spectacularly. A set of scratches on his chest had come from a stray cat he’d rescued last year, a feral tomcat that had been too sick to care for himself but not too sick to lacerate Martin. A pink patch on his wrist had come been a burn from the stove when he was eleven...

“Jon?”

Jon realized suddenly that he’d stopped moving, distracted by the faint scar on Martin’s left wrist. He groaned and buried his face in Martin’s chest. 

“God, Martin, I’m so sorry,” he said miserably. “I’m terrible at this.”

“What’s wrong?” Martin asked, tilting Jon’s chin up to look at him. His face was concerned.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about your  _ skin,”  _ Jon said, looking down. “How it looks, how it feels, the freckles, the scars. How you  _ got _ them.” 

“That’s...really sweet, actually,” Martin said, stroking Jon’s back. “Even if you’re ridiculous.”

“Sorry,” Jon said again. 

“Don’t be, it’s why I love you,” Martin said, squeezing him gently. Jon buried his face in Martin’s chest again, embarrassed but pleased. 

“Have you had this problem with other people?” Martin asked. 

“Not really. I haven’t really topped much, and Georgie always, er...took control.” 

“What do you mean?”

“She, er. You know.” Jon made a vague hand gesture. “Was on top. I just sort of...helped.”

“Did you...like it?”

“Yes. Quite a bit, actually.”

“Alright, get off,” Martin said, pushing him gently. 

Jon disengaged himself carefully, making a startled sound when Martin pushed him onto his back. Martin kissed him deeply until he relaxed again. 

“Mind if we try it that way?” Martin murmured, his breath tickling Jon’s ear. 

Jon shivered. “Please, do.” 

Martin settled back to straddle Jon’s hips, slowly sinking down onto Jon’s cock. Jon moaned as Martin enveloped him. Martin rocked his hips gently, getting used to the feel of him, and Jon gripped his thighs. 

“Martin—” Jon began, but then Martin lifted his hips, and Jon forgot to speak. 

Martin rode him slowly, as if savoring each small movement, his face lit with pleasure. His breath came in soft gasps that Jon wanted to swallow from him. Jon stroked his thighs, his flanks, his arms, as Martin moved. 

“You feel so good, Jon,” Martin sighed, sliding down until he had every inch of him, then grinding his hips. Jon moaned helplessly, clutching him tight. “So beautiful.”

“Please, Martin—”

Martin moved faster, bracing his hands on Jon’s shoulders. His cock bobbed with the motion, tantalizingly pink and tipped with fluid. Jon wrapped his fingers around the shaft, and Martin groaned. 

“God, touch me,” Martin moaned. 

Jon’s fingers tightened around Martin’s cock, and he stroked him urgently, too lost to conjure any skill. He was too overwhelmed, by Martin’s tightness, by his flushed face and his parted lips, by the weight of him against Jon’s body. 

“Jon,  _ Jon—” _

Jon stroked faster, rubbing his thumb under the glans until Martin bit down on his lip and sank down one last time, coming over Jon’s fist with a strangled cry. Jon groaned as Martin’s body clamped down around him, pulsing rhythmically until Martin sagged against him. 

“Christ, Jon,” Martin murmured, stroking Jon’s face. 

He leaned forward, and Jon whined at the tightness on his cock. 

“Let me take care of you,” Martin said, sliding down Jon’s body. He stripped off the condom and tossed it aside before swallowing Jon to the root. His face was rapt with pleasure as he sucked, and Jon barely had time to mumble a warning before he came. Martin swallowed every drop. 

Afterwards Martin scooped Jon up against his chest. Jon went gratefully, nuzzling Martin’s neck as his pulse calmed, taking the chance to simply breathe and enjoy Martin’s warmth. 

“That was…” Martin said, and then laughed, squeezing him tightly.

Jon buried his face in Martin’s shoulder. “Terrible. I know, sorry.” 

“Only at first,” Martin said, prodding him in the ribs. “Then it was. Well.”

“You  _ liked _ it?” Jon asked incredulously.

Martin snorted. “I thought the moaning and coming everywhere might have given you a clue.”

“I mean—well—”

“Did  _ you _ like it?

_ “Yes,”  _ Jon said, squeezing him tight. 

Martin laughed and kissed him again. 

“I am stupidly in love with you,” he murmured against Jon’s lips. 

“That’s fortunate,” Jon said. “Because I’m quite wisely in love with you.”

“You idiot,” Martin snorted, smacking him in the arm. Then he paused and made a face. “Eurgh. I’m  _ covered  _ in lube. Fancy a shower?”

Jon kissed him one last time. “I’ll get the water running.” 

Waiting for the water to warm, Jon found himself grinning like a fool. He wanted to do this forever: the kissing, the touching, the long nights watching awful telly over takeaway. The awkward mishaps and the laughter that followed. All of it. 

“Ooh, thanks,” Martin said, stepping under the spray. “Coming in?”

“After you,” Jon said. 

They spent rather more time kissing and touching than getting clean, but neither of them minded. 


End file.
